


Longing for Home

by MintyMaiden



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AFAB reader - Freeform, Drugging, F/M, Gender Neutral Pronouns, Needles, Pining, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-22 11:42:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22782397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintyMaiden/pseuds/MintyMaiden
Summary: This is a commission for a friend of mine who requested a pining noncon Reaper with drugged Reader. Reader is afab with gender neutral pronouns. PLEASE WATCH THE TAGS.
Relationships: Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Reader
Kudos: 111





	Longing for Home

Seeing you had been an accident. At least initially. He had been going about his normal daily brooding, floating down hallways as a swirling cloud of smoke and causing everyone else to duck into rooms to hide as he passed by. Everyone knew to avoid the Reaper when he was prowling around, especially at the Venice base.

Everyone, that is, except you.

A new recruit, scooped up in the promise of a well-paying job you figured would be easy, if a little messy. All you were to do was clean uniforms. 9 to 5, lodging included, weekends and holidays off in one of the world’s most beautiful cities. It had sounded like a dream come true.

But things that sound too good to be true usually are and working for Talon was no exception. There was a lot more blood to clean than you expected. Constantly. You felt out of place among the scores of soldiers in black body armor and red helmets. You and the other “support staff” wore white smocks to designate your positions, and as such you were rarely noticed by the operatives clad in darker colors.

That was why, as you pushed a cart of stained towels down the hall towards your designated elevator to Maintenance, you were shocked when Reaper, a figurehead you’d only heard of in hushed whispers, barreled around the next corner and into your cart.

You felt the unavoidable impact. Inertia carried you forward and over the lip of the large canvas bag and into the pile of towels inside it. The plume of smoke you’d collided with dissolved above your head and reassembled into the form of a man on the other side, where you’d been walking only a moment ago.

The imposing figure paused. From the stories you’d heard about those who got in his way, you’d expected quite a tongue-lashing (if not a physical one), but it never came. Instead Reaper turned around slowly and stared into the laundry cart at you, black voids where eyes should be boring into you.

He huffed. “Try to be more careful next time,” he said gruffly, before vanishing as suddenly as he’d appeared.

——————————

 _What was this goddamn feeling?_ After that moment in the hall where he had inexplicably given pause instead of a backhand Reaper had been in a more sour mood than usual. He couldn’t stop thinking about the surprised look on your face, the color blooming on your cheeks, the perfect _O_ your mouth had formed.

It was his hesitation, he decided, that was making his chest hurt more than usual. But he knew what regret felt like better than anyone, and this wasn’t it. Best to just forget the encounter and let the knots in his stomach fade.

They didn’t fade. How could they when suddenly every day he found himself paying rapt attention as he wandered down past the laundry floor on his way to the mess hall just because he had the chance to catch a glimpse of you? How could they fade when every time he slept his usual nightmares were softened by your face?

Before long Reaper had to ensure a way to see you directly. Each day you and the other staff stood at attention in a line at 1:14pm for inspection. He decided that was the perfect opportunity.

The first day you’d stood there trembling as he announced the usual officer was on leave and he would be taking over daily inspections for the foreseeable future. You were certain this was about your blunder a few weeks earlier. He had tracked down which floor and shift you worked and was here to deliver the punishment he’d neglected.

Reaper had taken notice of your quickened breathing and subtle sweating as he passed by you. He was grateful his face was hidden behind a mask. He couldn’t let anyone see the blush on his face matching your own.

—————————

Seeing your face for a few minutes each day did not stifle the feeling in his chest. Instead it grew into a distinct burning. Now that he was seeing you properly you took definite form in his dreams. Your presence chased the demons away and brought a warmth he could only describe as _Home._

Once that word was attached to you in his mind, he knew what the feeling in his chest was. _Longing_. He wanted you in a way he hadn’t wanted anyone in a long time.

Before long seeing you at 1:14pm each day wasn’t enough for him. The burning in his chest grew painful each time the inspection was over and every time he reached out to you in his sleep only to feel the empty sheets beside him. He needed to _touch_ you, to discover what you looked like under that shapeless smock and feel it for himself.

But to do that he needed a solid plan and a way to execute it. After many nights waking in a cold sweat and pacing his lonely dark room, scribbling down thoughts and ideas in a notebook kept hidden under his mattress, he came up with one.

It took a full month for the arrangements to be made, for him to create an emergency that would draw Moira and most of her staff off-base for several days while covering his tracks. During that time a new sensation began to torture him: the thought of the _O_ of your supple lips wrapped around his thick cock. The first dream of this manner had him waking with wetness on his face. Touching his damp cheek, he realized for the first time in years he had _cried._

That was the last straw. He had to have you as soon as possible and waiting for all the pieces of his plan to fall in place was agonizing. It took another two months of calculated changes to his schedule, forming habits for the rest of the facility to get accustomed to so no one would suspect anything when you finally disappeared.

The whole plan almost came crashing down when you caught sight of the strategically planted red garment in a batch of whites that would have ruined the load and given ample reason for your termination. But there was a fire coursing through his veins, an anticipation that had been building and he had been too careful for your attentiveness to get in the way of his desire. A second red sock had been planted in the basket and when the morning whites inevitably came out of the dryer at 1:10pm stained pink, you almost broke down crying, knowing your job and perhaps your _life_ was lost.

You tried to stand strong as Reaper towered over you, growling through his mask in what you could only interpret as rage. After several tense moments he finally turned away and told you to go start packing your things and meet him in his office after end-of-shift to discuss severance. The absolute relief that broke over you had you falling to the floor crying once he stepped out. The other launderers gave you a few looks of pity but quickly got back to their work.

As soon as he had left, Reaper fled to a washroom to compose himself. Locking the door, he removed his mask and hood and splashed cold water all over his head. He gasped and took deep breaths, still shaking from adrenaline and trying to clamp down on his arousal. He had refrained from pleasuring himself to thoughts of you for several nights now, wanting to save himself for the moment he felt _Home_ in the real world instead of only in dreams.

Exhaling deeply, he grabbed a paper towel and wiped the damp from his face, closing his eyes and ignoring the smoke curling up from his nervous fingers. Breathing in through his nose and squaring his shoulders, he steeled himself. He couldn’t slip up right at the finish line, not after months of preparation. The plan was already in motion, now it was time to act. He pulled his hood up and slid the mask back over his scarred face. Time to visit the security office and do something about a few choice cameras.

——————————

Your knock at the door was hesitant. Just because Reaper hadn’t killed you earlier didn’t mean he wasn’t going to now. You began to panic. _Earlier might have been preferable. At least it would have been quick and probably painless. Now he has the time to do it slow if he wants to . . ._

“Come in.” You obeyed, opening the door and pausing at the threshold. “What’s the matter?”

You sheepishly lifted the luggage in your hands and an uneasy noise escaped your throat.

“Just bring them inside and set them against the wall, then have a seat,” he grumbled. He was standing off to the side, pretending to peruse a bookshelf. You shuffled uncomfortably on your feet before settling into a chair, biting your lip in anticipation. Reaper came around to the front of his desk and leaned back on it, crossing his arms and legs, seeming to study you for a moment before exhaling.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Your cheeks burned even brighter red than they had that afternoon. “I know those uniforms will be expensive to replace. I expect you’ll be taking the cost out of my final paycheck—”

 _“Never mind about all that,”_ he cut you off sharply, hissing. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to _me?”_

“I . . .” you swallowed thickly. “No, sir?”

His face fell behind his mask, and he was grateful you couldn’t see it. He hadn’t been misinterpreting the signals you were sending, had he? No, that couldn’t be it, your blush of desire proved it. And just because you weren’t aware of his feelings for you didn’t mean your feelings for him were absent. How were you supposed to see he wanted you back, anyway, when his face was always hidden behind that goddamned mask?

He relaxed and uncrossed his arms leaning toward you now. It was time to change his approach. “I want to make things better for you. You don’t deserve to be washing hundreds of pounds of uniforms a week for the rest of your life. You’re so much more than that, and I want to give you the life you’re supposed to live.”

You squirmed uncomfortably. What was he going on about? “Sir?”

Reaper threw his hands up and walked around his desk, opening a drawer and grabbing a hypodermic needle. Your eyes grew wide and you scrambled to get out of the chair and run for the door, but the man made of smoke easily beat you and sunk the needle into your neck. A scream died in your throat as everything grew blurry.

He lifted you effortlessly as you slumped into him and he whispered into your ear as everything faded to black: “You don’t understand yet, but you will.”

——————————

The first thing you were aware of when you came to was that you still couldn’t move and everything seemed distorted. You were vaguely aware of lying on a bed with soft sheets. A fan hummed overhead, the same droning sound that could always be heard throughout Talon’s buildings. At least you knew where you generally were.

You inhaled sharply, trying to clear your head. It didn’t work, but it did arouse a large dark shape in the corner. Your memories were a bit fuzzy, but something told you to run. Your limbs did not obey. The dark shape approached.

“You’re finally awake.” You squinted. The voice was soft, much softer than you’d ever heard out of the man it was coming from. Slowly you pieced together the image of the white mask in your mind as it loomed over you. “Now I can have you all to myself.”

Oh god. _Oh god._

All you could do was squeak in protest as he pulled the bed’s blanket off you. The sudden cold against your skin registered in your mind as nakedness, an assessment that was confirmed as Reaper laid a hand- ungloved, you noticed- on one of your bare breasts and began to knead. His hand was large, rough, and surprisingly warm. He sighed contentedly. “I’ve waited months to touch you like this.”

Your breasts were so soft, it almost physically pained him to pull himself away, but he had to get his pants off somehow. He couldn’t wait any longer. With the blanket off and your sex fully visible to him, he knew he had to experience _Home._ Immediately.

You heard the jangle of his belt and felt his weight press against you. Unlike his hands, his uniform was as cold to the touch as it looked, and you tried to cry out to get him to stop. When he heard you whimper, he shushed you and took your face delicately in his hands, turning your head to look at him.

He paused, thinking of the mask covering his face and how it must have been frightening you. Why else would you be making such sounds?

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said almost sweetly as tears began to leak down the sides of your face towards your ears. “I would never hurt you, sweetheart.” With that he reached and lifted the mask off his face. The grizzled, scarred face of an old soldier smiled down at you darkly. Your vision was hazy, swimming with the drugs coursing through your system, but for the first time you saw the truly soulless eyes of the Reaper, sclera black as the smoke he turned into and irises red as the blood staining the blades on his gloves. “See? Now you know you can trust me, since I’ve trusted you.”

His true face was worse than the mask could ever be.

You heard a cap pop and felt a gel being spread around your sex. You swallowed as best as you could, unable to blink your tears away. He stroked your cheek with one hand and lined himself up with your entrance with the other. He groaned deeply once fully hilted inside you and moved slowly at first, but quickly sped up his pace. _Home_ was such a better feeling than he’d ever imagined, and now he’d never have to deprive himself of it again.

Too overcome with emotions he hadn’t felt in the better part of a decade, he took no care in helping you find pleasure in the act, chasing his release as quickly as possible. With a few more sloppy thrusts he emptied himself inside you, moaning your name and clutching the sheets in the ecstasy of his completion.

Panting as he came down from his high, he quickly shed his remaining clothing and snuggled into your side. The feeling of his skin against another person’s was something almost foreign to him at this point, but it felt natural and _right_ with you.

You felt sick and numb.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, placing kisses against your shoulder. “I couldn’t help myself. Next time I promise I’ll make you come, too.”

Yes, _Home_ was even better than he’d ever expected it to be. And with the preparations he’d made in obtaining drugs that would not be missed from Moira’s lab, in changing the camera feeds so Sombra would never find anything amiss, and in making the paper trail of “firing” you for Akande, no one would ever find out you were here. “We’re going to be together for a very long time,” he said, truly happy for the first time in over 30 years.


End file.
